A Part of Me
by Child of Mars
Summary: "You're like my twin but you came later, because instead of growing inside Mom the whole time…you started growing in a…special…" he couldn't continue, couldn't speak. Couldn't bear to say, 'in a tube'. Not to Jaycee. Not to vibrant, funny, adorable Jaycee. "You're part of me," he said at last, "and I'm part of you." A look at the strange, sad events that shaped the Denton brothers.


**A Part of Me**

Paul skimmed idly through the feed on his District Community app. Despite knowing that he could only cause himself acute misery, he couldn't tear his eyes away as update after update bubbled up in blue text.

 _Party's amazing. Can't believe we waited this long to light some fireworks._

 _Everyone's going out for food and maybe Fast-Ones if we can get a driver. PAUL WHY AREN'T YOU HERE._

 _Sorry to hear about your baby bro, Paul. Sucks that you can't be here._

 _Paul OMG when I see you at school I've got to tell you what Allison said. Message me back if you can't wait._

Paul groaned far louder than necessary, swiping his thumb in a senseless effort to force more updates from the feed on his pocket-cell.

He'd been looking forward to this get together with his friends for a whole week now. It was a send-off, a last hurrah for summer before things got intense at Academia again.

Paul had planned the whole evening just so his parents would let him go. He would be the sober driver. He wouldn't have any Fast-Ones. No pranks. No vandalism. He would take his friends home early or leave without them.

Even at the tender age of fifteen, his parents trusted him to be responsible. His circle of friends, with one or two chaotic exceptions…they were the better kids out of the crowd, the ones who just wanted to pass their classes and get a decent job. The perfect kind of people to have a stupid evening with if you absolutely had to have one.

Until Mom and Dad suddenly up and decided to have a date night. Dad had seemed kind of down for a week now…Mom persuaded him to take a night off with her. So who suffered? Paul, of course. They roped him into babysitting his six-year-old brother, Jaycee, without a care in the world as to what he thought of the matter.

And it wasn't that Paul didn't love Jaycee. It had absolutely nothing to do with that…his brother was slowly starting to become more annoying than cute, but that was just part of being family, part of being brothers. No, the injustice eating away at Paul was that his parents had known about this party for _weeks_. They'd put it on the calendar and everything.

He even had his new leather jacket hanging in the closet, ready for him to wear to the party. And Allison…he could have talked to _Allison_ …

He wanted to cry. More than that he wanted to break something.

If Mom wasn't so suspicious and old-fashioned they could have purchased a security bot or a caretaker bot or even hired an actual human. But they'd grown weirdly protective of Jaycee in the past year…rarely letting him out of their sight, never letting Paul take him anywhere. Even homeschooling him, which was ridiculous overkill in Paul's opinion but at least he didn't have to walk his brother to the bus.

"Paul," a voice came from near his head.

Jaycee rarely said his name like that. He'd whined, screamed, roared, even said it with a thick undercurrent of naughty humor…but this sounded like a trick, like Jaycee was making a dangerous joke that could send him wailing through the house with a furious Paul hot on his heels.

It also reminded Paul that he hadn't ordered dinner yet. Maybe Chinese food…Young-Hu's could deliver insta-drop.

In the meantime, he dropped the hand holding his pocket-cell and turned his head to look at Jaycee. "What is it?" He tried to sound patient and didn't quite make it.

Jaycee's brown eyes twinkled at him from a solemn little face. His black hair was cut short because the fastidious boy didn't want it falling into his eyes or tickling his ears, _ever_. Dad pleaded the case for him to their heartbroken mother. She was the one who designed Paul's hair when he was little…a wicked high-rise combover that she dyed blue.

Without further ado, Jaycee handed him a data-snap. The thin, plastic-like sheet was surprisingly stiff in Paul's fingers. "Were you MY age here?" Jaycee asked, with the peculiar, needlessly exaggerated emphasis toddlers liked to use to make sure they were heard.

"Yeah," Paul responded again, glancing at what he recognized was an old data-snap of him…six-year-old Paul in a stupid panda hoodie his Mom bought him. The natty thing was even covering his awesome hair. His past self was grinning at the data-lens and lifting one eyebrow, a skill he'd just discovered that very day and, of course, had to immortalize.

Back then, as a spoiled only-child, he'd lifted the cam from Mom's stuff and taken a dozen photos, each one more cringe-worthy than the last. Later, Mom got her revenge by posting the picture on her social feed with non-stop comments of how cute her precious baby was.

Paul still wasn't sure if it was his mom's cruel, carefully plotted revenge or just part of Mom being…Mom. She was pretty hard to read sometimes.

Satisfied with his response, watching him like a hawk, Jaycee pulled another data-snap out from behind his back and held it up to his brother's eyes.

It was then that Paul realized he'd been wrong. The two were perfectly identical except for the way the fabric folds fell, and how the strings on the first one were carefully pulled to hang even rather than flying at odd lengths.

Paul looked back at the first picture, pressing with his thumb to reveal the date. Today. Today's date. The first picture was Jaycee. The second was Paul. And he hadn't even been able to tell the difference. Identical pairs of brown eyes with lifted eyebrows and stupid, cute little smiles stared at him from two different children.

Two different children, completely the same.

* * *

Paul sat with his legs crossed on the bathroom floor, staring down in fierce concentration.

Instead of Chinese food, he used his own money to order a cheap DNA testing kit that arrived within the half-hour via insta-ship. Dragging a confused Jaycee into the bathroom with him, they began sampling their DNA. Spit into the vial. Get readings. Spit into another vial. Get readings. Compare readings. Complete.

The result was a 98.492% match and, for an extra 40 credits, would they like to see what great historical figureheads they were descended from or the likelihood that they'd inherited a genetic defect or hereditary disease?

Paul stared numbly at the device. Blurred articles danced across his eyes, things he remembered reading in the news…where a rich family cloned a son using the father's genetic tissue, just so they could have an heir to the estate. He remembered the little anecdote at the end…they didn't even have to change the isomorphic locks or retina scans when the father finally passed away. The mother fell in love with her son as he reached adulthood. He ended up shooting himself.

Worse, Paul remembered Mom sitting in the kitchen, sniffing as she flicked through Paul's baby data-snaps. She wanted another baby, she cried.

Paul, being only seven, asked her where they could buy one. Dad guffawed before quickly shutting up as Mom gave him a stricken look.

Did his parents do this? Mom and Dad? _Why?!_

He felt strange. Horrified. Even violated…because they took a piece of him and made another him and they never even _told_ him.

He looked up and saw Jaycee…Jaycee was just staring at him, wide eyed, innocent…not quite realizing the implications as he sat in the fresher with his bare feet and dirty knees. Did he even know what cloning was? Did he realize what it meant, them sharing the exact same genetic makeup?

Quickly, although his throat was thick and hurting, Paul pushed the kit aside. "We're…" he struggled for words. "We're twins…kinda."

Perhaps, in hindsight, he should have waited for his parents to come home. But they were the ones with the lies, with the secrets. They did this to Paul…to Jaycee, to both of them. As the victims, he and his brother needed to come to terms. They needed to discuss this, present a united front to his parents and demand honesty from them.

"Huh?"

"I think…I'm not sure, b-but maybe you're cloned."

"Cloned?" Jaycee had heard the word. He just didn't understand it. "What's a cloned?"

Paul sighed. "It's like…they…" his words tripped over themselves as he spoke. Panic thundered in his ears. "You're like my twin but…you came later…because instead of growing inside Mom the whole time…you started growing in a…special…" he couldn't continue, couldn't speak.

Couldn't bear to say, _in a tube_. Not to Jaycee. Not to vibrant, funny, adorable Jaycee.

"You're part of me," he said at last, "and I'm part of you. We're made of the same stuff…exactly the same. So we look exactly alike."

Jaycee still didn't quite understand. Paul hoped he never would. He wasn't sure when he'd work up the nerve to confront his parents, and he wanted to set the kid at ease before he blabbed to Mom in confusion…. "But actually, this is awesome."

"It is?"

"Yeah! Because if you weren't cloned I would never have met you. Without cloning, you wouldn't be here, little brother."

Jaycee smiled, showing a gap in his teeth. The same gap Paul had. Moved by emotions he couldn't describe if asked, something fierce and protective that burned in his chest, Paul suddenly gathered Jaycee into his arms.

Jaycee wasn't at the age yet where hugs were completely repulsive to him. He'd started to squirm sometimes if Dad tried to kiss him or Paul tried to hug him. Such rebellions against affection had always been effectively punished…Dad with tickles, Paul with noogies.

So Paul kept the hug brief. He pulled back and stood, his heart hammering loudly in his ears for no reason at all. In the back of his brain, the future discussion with Mom and Dad was undergoing various incarnations in a frantic, desperate loop of worrying madness.

"Chinese food?" he asked, pretending to be normal even as reality was slipping out from under him like water.

Jaycee jumped up and clapped his hands with all the assurance of a jolly little dictator. " _Popcorn_!"

"Sure. Why not?" Paul mumbled with a weak smile. He went into the kitchen to start making the stuff.

Jaycee followed him and hesitated, running his fingers up and down the table edge. "Will Mom be mad?"

Paul froze. "What?"

"That I took out the data-snap."

"She might put it on social media," Paul said softly, relieved.

Jaycee let out a protesting, theatrical screech and Paul smiled.

The movie had to be kid-friendly. Ducktales was good enough, still at the top of the family queue from last time. Paul turned it on and resumed his place on the couch. Stretched out, lying on his side, pocket-cell forgotten on the table. Somehow, that party, all that fun…it seemed so unimportant, and yet so sorely missed. Like Paul wanted to forget more than ever but knew that would be impossible.

Jaycee tottered out of the kitchen, holding a comparatively huge bowl of popcorn to himself. With some difficulty he got up on the couch and sat against Paul's stomach, eating and whining at his big brother whenever Paul took more than a handful.

When the popcorn was all gone, and the cartoon ended, Jaycee curled up against him, his greasy hands sprinkled in coarse salt and kernel bits.

The screen was a soft blue glow that emitted a low-pitched, soothing sound. An extra feature they'd purchased to guarantee Jaycee would be fast asleep and ready to be carried to bed after a matinee.

They were silent together, in the semi-darkness, bathed in the blue glow. Jaycee was warm against Paul's chest, heavy in his arms.

Finally, "Are we really part of each other?"

Jaycee's whisper sounded so awestruck it broke Paul's heart.

"You bet," Paul murmured. He picked up one of Jaycee's dirty little hands and rubbed his thumb along the knuckles, brushing some of the popcorn residue away. Away from Jaycee's skin. _Paul's_ skin.

Jaycee giggled and returned the grip, pushing Paul's hand around aimlessly.

Paul smiled. "We're closer than most brothers, actually," he said, thinking back on all the times he'd put his face excitedly in baby Jaycee's, like an overexcited Labrador sniffing a new arrival. Or the unearthly, exquisite feeling of _belonging_ when Jaycee's fat little fist squeezed his fingers, shortly before pulling them into his mouth.

Jaycee was growing up so fast.

"We've got a special connection."

At that, Jaycee twisted impatiently, like a little human rocket changing trajectory. This time his mischievous sparkle was back, his feet poised to run if he had to. "Cause we _loooove_ each other?" he lisped.

Paul narrowed his eyes. He remembered Jaycee giggling in the kitchen when Dad teased Paul about having a girlfriend…which he didn't have. Allison was…just…well, a study partner? Who was adorable and sweet and also so smart…so safe…that it made Paul feel butterflies all over again just _imagining_ her face?

Her eyes were so calming and yet so bright at the same time. He didn't know how they could be that way. And Jaycee…

With a sudden, forced motion, he slid his fingers into Jaycee's armpits and held them there as a stark warning. "Watch the movie, Jaycee…you're missing the best parts."

Jaycee squealed in reaction to the invasion of his ticklish parts. He stiffened and tried to squirm away. "Lemme go!"

"What do you say?" Paul teased.

Jaycee kicked wildly, his bony little limbs flailing. "Let go LET GO NOOO!"

A hand smacked Paul square in the nose. Putting everything on hold, he grimaced and blinked against the pain. It was the risk of the game, not Jaycee's fault. He was a big enough boy to admit that. When the stinging died down to bearable levels he buried his face in the crook of Jaycee's neck, tickling him with hot, whispering breath. "Whaddya say?"

Jaycee's voice was becoming breathy and pitched. Still excited, still joyful, but flagging. They were reaching the breaking point, and fast. His piercing laughter faded to a chortle. " _Please_!"

Paul stopped. He took a moment to gather Jaycee away from the edge of the couch where he was falling and pulled him snugly against his chest again. "You're a little brat, you know that?"

"Mmmhhhm," Jaycee agreed smugly. Still weak from his ordeal he lay heavily in Paul's arms a while, slowly falling asleep, his face partially buried against his brother's shoulder.

They were like that when they finally drifted off together.

It seemed like a long, long dream had passed before a sharp knock on the door startled Paul awake. Jaycee murmured fitfully as Paul slipped away from underneath him, dropping the toddler into a pile of couch pillows.

He glanced at the clock. 4:16 AM. The midnight sky outside was just starting to lighten.

As he padded softly over to the door, blinking sleep away, he wondered what had kept Mom and Dad so late.

He opened the door to see a woman in a stiff suit with her blonde hair tied tightly back. Her hand was dry and cool when she reached out and Paul, confused, returned the shake without thinking.

There were other people in the hall, but Paul couldn't see them as the woman flashed him her badge and swept inside. Her eyes darted around the house a moment, as if ascertaining that everything was safe. Then she turned her full attention on him.

"Paul Denton? Honey, I have terrible news and I am so sorry you have to hear this. Where's Jaycee?"

Something about her made Paul not want to answer. It made him want to smash her face shut and pushed her back out the front door and lock it behind her. Instead, he nodded towards the couch.

"You may want to wake him. There's been a terrible accident. Your parents…they're dead."

* * *

They packed that morning. By the time everything was said and done it was too late to go back to bed. Paul had cried. Until Jaycee woke up…then Paul took him to Mom and Dad's bedroom and told him what happened. Jaycee didn't seem to believe him.

Paul repeated it. Again. And again. On the third _Mommy and Daddy are gone_ , he cracked. He could feel something in his brain snap, faith or hope or belief that everything could be okay…it shattered under him like a glass floor.

Jaycee started to cry too. Failure and helplessness flooded Paul and he withered, burying his face in his hands as his little brother's world dissipated, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

The blonde lady came back with a man. "We have to go to the station…you two shouldn't be alone tonight."

They spent a grand total of a week at the station before they were informed that they had become wards of the State. That the State would pay for their education, food, and upbringing. And that the State was going to separate them.

Not long after they were taken in by social services, Paul and Jaycee received medical checkups. Excited by something he saw on the scans, the doctor excused himself and left, rushing off with a plastic sheet in his hand.

Sitting numbly on the medi-bed, Paul glanced over at the screen and saw his own files there, a thermos x-ray of his body, splayed out naked for the whole world to see. In the upper corner he could see the gold stars and laurels of UNATCO, the United Nations Anti-Terrorist Coalition.

Like the military, but with more righteous goals in mind and more power behind the scenes than anybody knew.

But he didn't spare it more than a passing glance. Because the tab of Paul's files said, 'Unit 1 - Primary' and there was a tab behind it that said, 'Unit 2 - Subject 00239X90239"

Or something to that effect. Paul would never remember the whole code. Only that it intrigued him. Shifting sideways along the bed, he tapped the screen. It was Jaycee's records. Except they weren't medical…they were UNATCO, dated from before the accident.

UNATCO knew Jaycee was a clone.

He and his brother were caught up in lies, in some dark game the world of adults was playing on them. There were no allies and no rules that he knew of…not even a motive for the enemy. So Paul did the only thing he thought he could to keep Jaycee safe.

He played along.

As they said their goodbyes, tears of rage staining their cheeks, Paul grabbed Jaycee by the head and kissed him, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his little brother's shampoo.

"I'll visit, we'll keep in touch, I promise. And when I'm 18, I'll get custody of you."

"What if you don't?" Jaycee could hardly get a word out in one piece…his entire body was shaking.

Paul felt hatred and regret swirl like a storm in his gut. Hatred of the government institution that was doing this to them. Regret because he couldn't stop it. "Then when _you're_ 18…we'll meet. On your birthday. On any day. You know where? Where we used to take the ferry with Mom and Dad?"

Jaycee nodded.

Paul knelt down and whispered in his ear, "And Jaycee, don't mention what we found out…about the DNA, the cloning."

"Why?" Jaycee may or may not have been listening. He was trying to press himself into Paul, burying his nose in Paul's leather jacket as if hoping he would somehow stick, and ride out of that place like a koala cub.

"It's none of their business!" Paul hissed between his teeth, staring over Jaycee's head at the UNATCO guards standing 'idly' in the background. "It's nobody's business but ours. Always remember, Jaycee…they're not Mom and Dad. Just because they feed you and teach you and pay your way through life…they don't own you. _Nobody does._ Nobody ever will."

He gently pulled Jaycee away from him and punched him, feather-light, in the chest. His eyes hurt and dammit he was crying, just when he'd promised himself he would be strong. But he never looked away. "Part of me."

Jaycee nodded. He couldn't seem to say anything as his upper lip started quivering. Another lady started walking towards them. In a small moment of defiance, Paul stood up and left. It was his decision. Not theirs. He walked away from his little brother on his own two feet.

Because he was coming back.

UNATCO did their best to leave their mark on the two Dentons. Both of them were sent to the finest military schools, where they learned discipline, obedience, and self-control. Both of them took special courses on history, with a generous liberal bent towards the founders of the school, UNATCO. Paul lived and breathed whatever they told him, as they expected. At night when he went to bed he'd throw it all into the recycle bin of his brain and empty it, like a computer.

He would never be their puppet.

Four years later, he turned eighteen. At nineteen, he graduated.

Immediately, he applied for custody of his now ten-year-old brother. _Denied_. He didn't have a job. Paul got a job and applied again. _Denied_. He had no positive scores on his record. It didn't matter that he'd never committed a crime in his life. No one would recommend him.

Paul knew what game they were playing, what it was they wanted.

He applied to UNATCO's special division, and his application was accepted in three days, as opposed to the customary six weeks. Paul was hardly surprised. They cloned him, after all. They must have wanted him for some reason.

A mere six months after being accepted into the force, his name was selected for volunteer augmentation. He knew the drill. Understood the rules a little better now. After accepting augmentation and going through the bizarre, painful process _(headaches-bones burning-metal screams in my ears-blind my eyes are blind.)_

 _(Cold. It's so cold.)_

After augmentation, he put in a request for visiting hours with Jaycee.

Certain high-ranking officers began pulling the appropriate strings. Finally, Paul was granted access to see Jaycee for the first time since their separation.

Jayce was twelve now, and Paul was twenty-one.

Paul had been worried that the augmentations would come as a shock to Jaycee. That and the beard.

Just so no one would ever ask them if they'd figured out they were cloned twins, Paul was growing a somewhat pathetic little beard. A last pretense at ignorance. The augmentations helped with that. Slender, silver-colored circuits graced his hands and forehead, the veins around them blue and swollen from nanite discharge. He still wasn't used to the…ley lines, roadmap, whatever they were for the nanites. He doubted he ever would be.

But for all the mutilation and attachments on his body, Paul hadn't change a bit compared to the quiet, reserved cadet that came into the room, stopped, and stared at him.

Brown eyes, serious, dark brows. Jet black hair in a military haircut. Stiff attention, eyes never still, busy brain filing away every detail, just as he'd been taught.

It became apparent that they'd completely forgotten how to touch each other. Neither went in for a hug or even a handshake…they didn't remember how. But they nodded at each other and sat down in the appropriate chairs.

Instead of being disgusted, Jaycee merely gazed with quiet, curious interest. He asked a lot of questions about the augmentations that Paul couldn't answer. The kid mentioned that he'd been studying about it recently, that he'd been tested positive for an augmentation candidate should he choose to apply.

Dimly, Paul heard the word _NEVER_ scream somewhere deep inside his head, buried under wires and circuits, under a mountain of paranoia and lies. His lips moved. "If that's what you want to do and if you can help make a difference, go for it."

That brought the first smile to Jaycee's face. He started to warm up. He asked Paul about his life up till then, about the service, about UNATCO. Paul asked Jaycee about his life, about his education, his goals. He asked about whether Jaycee remembered the old house in the country where they spent summers with their neighbors.

Jaycee asked about Allison.

Paul steered the conversation away. Away from pointless regret. There'd been no choice, no choice...Jaycee was the only thing from his old life he'd been able to hold onto, let alone Allison, his friends, his childhood dreams of being an astronaut.

But the connection was still there. They knew the same jokes. Paul laughed for the first time in years. Jaycee smiled.

Finally, all too soon, it was time to go. Jaycee accompanied him to the door and shook his hand. But his grasp was warm. Paul felt his fingertips exploring the circuitry on the back of his hand and chuckled. "You know I'm proud of you, always, Jaycee," He squeezed briefly. "You… you're all I've got left in the world. You're part of me."

Jaycee look at him, seemingly surprised. But then he smiled. That look in his eyes, mischievous and heartbreakingly like his younger self…he understood. He remembered.

* * *

There were other looming dangers. Other ways of punishing Paul that UNATCO would use to remind him that they were fully aware of how much he cared about Jaycee. When Paul failed a mission, Jaycee's entire class would go on a retreat for three months. Or Paul would get exported to foreign lands until they thought he'd suffered enough.

Paul didn't fight them, didn't protest. He knew UNATCO was too big. He knew they'd stolen his brother way because they wanted something from him. If he wanted to compete in any way, to keep a hold on Jaycee, he'd have to play the obedient soldier. The good lapdog.

He only wished Jaycee wasn't so good at playing it. From the emails they sent back and forth, he could see how much Jaycee admired the ideal of UNATCO, what it symbolized, what it could be. The younger Denton read up on all the heroes of the past and all the posited ways forward for the institution. He loved belonging, loved the feeling of being able to protect his country with a band of brothers and sisters.

Finally, Jaycee's naïve dream became a tangible reality when he graduated. Paul immediately met him weeks after, just where they'd planned. Jaycee came to live in Paul's apartment (one of them, anyway) and they settled down to the business of getting to know each other again. They went out to watch movies and holo-bands, spent evenings in crowded bars and restaurants…they even went on a boat trip.

Although he already knew the answer Jaycee pretended that he wanted to know if the nanites were affected by water, so they went swimming together. Jaycee found out he could swim like a dolphin, and Paul found out that if the situation ever called for it he could punch a shark hard enough to send it rolling through the water, stunned.

In a way, Paul became reacquainted with his own humanity even as he grew to know his brother again. It was a wonderful month.

Until they got home and found a crowded email inbox full of queries from Paul's fellow agents and advertisements from UNATCO's cadet program, addressed to Jaycee.

Once again the calm, collected man military school had turned him into, Jaycee nodded quietly at the screen in a satisfied way. "Well, they wanted us, they got us."

Without a word to Paul, he started filling in the application immediately. Back straight, fingers flying, eyes hardly blinking…it was like the vacation had never happened. Paul's heart fell into his stomach as he numbly closed his own inbox.

Nothing of note, except Navarre's emails where, as per usual, she blamed him for failure because they went after a terrorist sect without him and ended up triggering another terrorist sect camped nearby in the process. But, as he'd told her so often, that's what happened when you rushed in, guns blazing.

He went into the bathroom and showered the smell of the sea off him. The feeling of the sun. The touch of the ocean breeze. All of it went down the drain as his cold metal showerhead sang to him. He would need to leave, report back to duty. Get his augs tuned up by Dr. Jaime. Hopefully ignore Navarre. At least Gunther would appreciate the shark story. _(I vould have taken it by ze gills and torn it to schreds, Paul. Vhy didn't you?)_

He left the shower, towel around his waist, heading towards his bedroom. He stopped at the door, watching Jaycee's head as he busily filled in the UNATCO application. "Jaycee?"

Jaycee's head moved a bit. "Yeah, Paul?"

"Enjoy your free time while you've got it. You know I want you to join UNATCO if you think it's right, but…"

Now Jaycee moved. Strong and wiry, he got up off the couch, abandoning the application as he put his full attention on Paul. There was something teasing in his eyes. "You worried?"

Paul shook his head. "You're strong. Mind and body. More importantly, I think you've got a good handle on right and wrong. No, I'm not worried about you."

He want to let it out, right there, that he didn't trust UNATCO. But it was too soon. Regardless of whether JC listened to him or not, Paul was in their clutches. He had their nanites in his skull. He needed to bide his time, find someone who could deactivate nanites, protect him from trackers, rip their voice out of his head. He had to wait for a better time.

Jaycee took his silence differently. "You're a bad liar, Paul."

Paul shrugged. "Maybe."

He must have sounded unhappy. Jaycee took several steps forward and then moved. Unprepared, Paul jumped as Jaycee, in his t-shirt and black trousers and so unbelievably _tall_ for a little brother, suddenly reached forward and hugged him. Head brushing his wet hair, face buried against his shoulder, skin against skin. Warmth flooded his stomach. It reminded Paul…

" _You're_ also part of _me_ ," Jaycee mumbled, "Always. And because of that, I know you won't let me go without a fight…and I won't let you go. Okay?" He pulled away. It was more demonstrative than Paul thought him capable of after UNATCO's upbringing. He stared at his brother, stunned.

"That's why I'm signing up," Jaycee said, making sure to catch Paul's gaze and hold it. Warm brown and cold, electric blue. "We'll watch each other's backs." _Like no one watched Mom and Dad's._ He shrugged. "And I want to make a difference in this war-torn world."

"Ambitious. I like it."

Jaycee smirked. "Well that and I feel like you'd kill me if I settled for burger flipping after my expensive education."

"No, please," Paul laughed, trying not to sound dead inside, trying not to grab Jaycee in a panic as his brother slipped away to return to his application, "Please waste UNATCO's money as much as you want…burgers will be rarer than gold with the way this world's going."

* * *

When Jaycee was augmented, the brothers received their next big shock.

In a world of being a mech, a bot, a cold killer, toppling governments for the sake of a society you've only ever been the invisible decimator of…having a brother you cared for and would kill for was the only warm thing. A spiritual thing. It was what kept Paul going during their long separation, kept him focused on making an escape from the system for the both of them.

Being able to shake his hand, to ruffle his hair, to cup his neck…that'd been just icing on the cake when they finally reunited. Paul had always been tactile. As a child he'd loved to cuddle. As an adult he always longed for a warm touch to remind him he was still human. Maybe it was all a result of the cloning. Maybe Paul felt what was missing and wanted it back. Holding onto Jaycee felt safe, and natural, and wonderful when they were kids.

As agents he did it often, whenever they were at home between missions. Jaycee suffered his affection with good cheer, even if at heart he was still that fastidious little boy squirming out of hugs.

Now, after they were both augmented…touching Jaycee brought low levels of electronic discomfort to both their systems, a sort of same-flux charge shock.

Nanites were microscopic, thousands of them lost in spattering drops of blood, in pieces of flesh and coat left behind by bullets. When they met with foreign nanites serving an entirely different entity, the result wasn't pleasant. Like two crowds of ants meeting and getting all their signals crossed. They got angry and frightened and started to bite, swarming all over their skin, stinging like ice in their circuits. Touching was no longer really an option…it _hurt_.

There were no more hugs, no more handshakes. Just witty comments and shared griping at the world.

As a full-fledged agent, Jaycee started to put everything UNATCO had taught him about the world and how it worked into practice. Not the real darkness, but the pamphlet material, the strong-armed peacekeeping advertisements that shimmered across the city scape. But to Paul's relief, despite the naggings of Navarre and everyone around him…his capable little brother began a campaign against the terrorists, utilizing a minimum casualty policy that made him very unpopular with his fellow agents.

And Paul knew that while Jaycee was still a knight in relatively shiny armor, he had to pull his string. His one connection to Jaycee that had any kind of chance of persuading him to turn against everything he believed in, everything that he'd been raised to serve and admire and protect.

 _You're my brother. You're a part of me._

And that's when all hell broke loose. Kill switch. Riots. Marshal law. Helios explosion.

After his kill switch was activated and Jaycee dragged his body from sleazy hotel to dirty alleys and back again…after they finally made it to the base of their allies, Paul spent much of his time sitting in secret labs, shuffled from place to place while his entire body turned to nanite-stone from the inside out.

Tracer Tong and the others treated him with care and kindness, but he still felt utterly alone. He was helpless, in agony, without his brother. He could only beg for news and hack into computers to see what was happening, while Jaycee traversed the world and fought AIs and dealt with Illuminati, before choosing to blow up the world net and bring life on earth back to the level it was meant to be…individualized. Human. Free.

The world went to pieces, but not too badly. After all, there were still actual humans left to pick them up. Humans and their shameful failings and their glorious potential to rise. Humans who could still choose.

When Jaycee finally found Paul, Tracer Tong, and the rest after the Great Collapse it was at the ruins of Liberty Island. Tracer Tong had set up a fort inside to protect them from attacking marauders. Paul and Jaycee, whether they liked it or not, were officially adopted as second sons by the Chinese scientist. He spent the rest of his days shoring up the strength of their augmentations and doing his best to make them as energy independent as possible.

After the chaos and the dust had settled somewhat, the leaders of the United States met at Liberty Island to discuss the shape of the world to come. Questions were raised about negotiations, about lone individuals who could slip behind hostile lines and bring peace and terms to the common man, to the every day citizen who just wanted the madness to end and the warlords to disappear.

Almost going out of their minds with boredom, Paul and Jaycee looked up at each other from across the meeting room. Just a smirk, as their twin eyes glowed blue with bioelectric cells.

From then on, they did what they were made to. They spread peace. They travelled in shadows. They negotiated, bribed, advertised the wonders of a united government. You can't fight a shadow. You can only listen.

They were still remarkably powerful. Some mechanical implants were dead, bits and pieces of shielding that sat heavy in their flesh. Sometimes they would blink, and a computer circuit would spark in protest, sending a galaxy of exploding stars across their eyes.

Their nanites continued to do what they always had…repair and restore themselves, perpetually. A constant source of life, swarming beneath their skin.

Sometimes, they worried about immortality.

A hundred years passed. Dictatorships and governments rose and fall. Good plans went astray, and good men died…but overall, order began to return. The country started to grow strong and reach out to other nations. The worldwide web was dark, but the planet wasn't.

Tracer Tong passed away. Dr. Jaime passed away. Alex grew old.

Paul and Jaycee's hair turned snow-white. Apparently the nanites weren't programmed to restore pigment cells. But there was no other sign of aging until one day, in the ever-more frequent times of peace, when Paul laughed.

Jaycee still didn't laugh very much, but he did make the jokes. And this time he saw crow's feet at the corner of Paul's eyes.

And one day, Paul's back continued to hurt after falling down a ten-meter shaft. It never quite stopped. Jaycee was shot in the abdomen and couldn't stop the bleeding for twenty minutes.

Paul started using a cane. Jaycee found himself short of breath sometimes. Muscle deterioration was slight…agility and focus much worse.

One day, they found themselves sitting on the porch of another home halfway across the world from their first, gazing at the same sunset, drinking the same terrible beer. The light was warm and golden, and Paul kept closing his eyes to savor it.

He took a swig from his bottle. "This stuff is very bad for you," he remarked judiciously.

"So is smoking," Jaycee agreed, taking a deep, slow pull at the cigarette between his fingers.

Paul snorted. He took his cane and stood up, a bit stiffly. Dinner was cooking on the stove and the last thing he wanted was to go asking the neighbors for help again if something burned. He started to walk into the house.

Then the pain started. A weak, fizzling pain at the base of his spine that drove the breath out of him. The floor swept up like massive wings, aimed right at his face.

He heard a cry. Arms encircled him clumsily, slinging him from one unknown direction to another. When the black retreated to the edge of his vision Paul realized he was sitting on the floor, his upper half slung against the wall, pinning Jaycee's arm there.

Jaycee's other hand was clutching his, fingers squeezing for dear life.

It didn't hurt.

It didn't even buzz. Jaycee stared at their hands, twining their fingers together. Wondering at the absence of pain, slowly realizing as Paul already had…the nanites were dormant. Or lost. It didn't matter. The painful shock was gone.

He squeezed gently, rubbing his thumb across Paul's knuckles with the slow care of a scientist, or a child watching an egg hatch. "Part of me," he growled softly in wonder, "huh."

Paul wanted to say something, but all that came out was a sigh. His back still hurt…only it was more now, all over, trembling weakly. He needed to sit still for a few minutes.

Counting the seconds, he stared at their boots, stared beyond them at the desert vista. Just breathing.

Jaycee's face swung into his line of sight, blocking off the beauty. White hair, stern, scarred face, wrinkled. Brown eyes, marred by lines of faded circuitry. When his little brother spoke, his voice was thick and rough from smoking. "I said I wouldn't let you go without a fight, old man."

Paul didn't even need to think about his reply. It was as certain to him as what was approaching, coming fast with the night as the sun set and the light fled away.

"We've been fighting a long time."

Jaycee was quiet. Dead silent for the longest time. Then he simply pulled Paul closer. "Are you really, really going to leave me alone…after all this?"

"Don't be so dramatic. It doesn't have to be tonight…" although every movement of his torso told him that might not be the case. "And you wouldn't be alone…you've got Neighbor Frederick."

That was a joke. Jaycee didn't laugh. Finally, "I'm not ready. This isn't fair."

 _We never were. And it never is._

Instead, Paul squeezed his hand. "I think what I love most about you blowing up the world web…what gets me smiling when I think about it…is you saying no. You giving one last middle finger to Bob Page, to UNATCO…to the world, really. You telling them you _can_ choose, they did _not_ make you, and that you are a completely whole, perfect individual, in and of yourself. A smart, incredibly brave man who is free despite everything they tried to do to him."

Jaycee's voice was thick and strange. "But a clone still. I would never have existed without their playing God."

"But you _did_ …" Paul insisted, "And they sent armies against you, and they couldn't end you. Couldn't master you. You were born with a collar and you broke it. Because you're a human. My twin. My brother."

"A part of you?" Jaycee murmured, sounding close to tears.

"No." Breathing felt easier now. "If anything, I'm a part of _you_. We belong together. Nothing we've been through could separate us, and death certainly won't either."

Soft, wet laughter. Jaycee was laughing. He kissed the side of Paul's head. "You've been a wonderful, amazing brother, you know that, Paul?"

"You too, Jaycee…" Paul grinned, closing his eyes, savoring the touch. Of skin against skin. Jaycee's heartbeat. Paul's heartbeat. Jaycee here and safe and alive and pure. _Part of me. Part of you. Whole together._ "You kept me sane. You kept me true. You've been the best…best thing that ever happened to me."

"Don't leave me today, alright?" Jaycee asked, a broken whisper.

"Can't promise." It was easier to breathe now. Maybe it was just a scare. Maybe it was a warning. As long as they were together, it didn't matter.

Jaycee shifted him tighter into his arms, pulling him close, keeping him warm. He smelled like silver powder and horses from their range. His voice was teasing and somehow broken at the same time. "Disobeying orders and toppling regimes…you always were the difficult one."

"Says my doppelganger."

"Everyone knows you copied me."

"Yeah, on what not to do."

"You gonna sleep on top of me all night?"

"Mmmhhhm," Paul agreed smugly. Still weak from his ordeal he lay heavily in Jaycee's arms, slowly falling asleep, his face partially buried against his brother's shoulder.

They were like that when they finally drifted off together.

It seemed like a long, long dream had passed before they woke up again.

FINIS

* * *

 ** _Author's Notes: Finally played Deus Ex the original in preparation for tackling Human Revolution and Mankind Divided...and Let. Me. Tell. You! Such a good game. Mechanics that I'm sure were unique and unheard of for the time, in a game with a sharp, excellent soundtrack, worldbuilding, and government intrigue. Even inter-character development was first rate (there was stuff unsaid and unexplored, but there's always stuff unsaid and unexplored. That's why fanfiction exists.)_**

 ** _Anyway, I may have fudged their ages. Please forgive me. And I may have invented a good relationship between the Denton boys and their parents...I know the game implies otherwise._**

 ** _Last note: The image used for the story was drawn by Alex de Bernardis. He's drawn great stuff for the Deus Ex games and also other things! Please check him out!_**

 ** _Thanks everyone so much, and as usual, reviews feed the plot bunnies who in turn draw the muse out from where she hides in my brain, biding her time until I lose all cognizant knowledge of human interaction and the use of the english language._**


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